Azor Ahai, Our Laird and Savior
by Anime Borat
Summary: Azor Ahai, Neferion, Hyrkoon the Hero, you heard it all and now here is the hot and heavy truth, enough to melt the polar ice caps! Azor Ahai exposed in this two-part special.


**Azor Ahai, Our Laird and Savior**

A/N: I created this parody fresh from my mind. Does not conform to any lore of the books or TV series outside the prophecy itself. My first and probably only GoT fanfic.

* * *

 _Between the time when the heroes roam the lands of Westeroes and the rise of the coming of the Andals there was an age undreamed-of. And unto this, the Last Hero, destined to bear the giant flaming skewer to light the world upon a troubled pair of hands. It is I, his cabana boy, who alone can tell thee of his saga. Let me tell you of the days of high adventure! And idiocy._

- _Anvil of Crom by Basil Poledouris, Conan the Barbarian OST play_ s-

Inside a hut molten metal was poured into a mold, spouting smoke and flame. It was slowly being hammered into shape, tongs held in place. The amidst the heat and smoke came a great implement.

... A pot.

 _*record scratch*_

The pot was tossed into a pile of snow, producing steam and water, which run into a sluice which poured into a wooden mug. The blacksmith approached an old lady with the pot. "Here's your copper pot, ma'am. That'll twenty rocks."

The old lady accepted the pot and handed him a bag full of rocks. "Bless the gods, Azor." She she left with it.

Azor took the rocks and inspected them. Definitely not dung, while useful as fuel, could hardly buy him a hibernating rabbit. "All in a day's work," he lamented.

- _Ice Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice plays_ -

We get a vista of blizzard-swept village with people walking around in fur coats, huddling in protection from the frozen winds. Some men carry spears and set out into the wilderness. Children were playing with snowballs while older teens practiced their bronze swords against snowmen. At the edge of a village, a giant sloth, a mammoth, and a sabre-toothed cat where trudging around, carrying a human baby back to its herd.

And in one hut the blacksmith was struggling to make a pan. What he made was something akin to somebody's mushed-up face. Frustrated, he threw it into a pile of scrapped items which he would use as raw material. He drink his mug of recently-melted water, unmindful of the hazards of lead or mercury contamination. The nebbish blacksmith was counting his lucky rocks to see if he could afford the bathhouse today. It's been over week since he last took one and some hot water and suds sound very appealing to him. Then a knock at the door.

- _Ice Ice baby fades_ -

"Who is it?" he called out.

"Bacongram for Azor," said the knocker.

He opened it and accepted a package wrapped in thin leather. Closing the door, he opened. "Azor likes bacon."

- _Merrie Melodies & Looney Tunes opening theme plays-_

And popped a white walker figure made of ice!He screamed like a little girl while the pranksters outside laughed their asses off.

- _Merrie Melodies & Looney Tunes opening theme ends-_

Getting up shakily, he threw it out the window. Punked again. Then another knock.

"Unless you're the real bacon delivery guy, I'll shove a red hot poker up your-"

"Azor, come to the cave," said the knocker. "The wise men have spoken. We must hear the good news." At this Azor Ahai rushed and joined the other villagers to the cave which was their tin mine.

 _Inside the cave..._

"My people," said the village elder. "I have good news and bad news."

"Let's hear the bad news first," said Azor unhelpfully, earning the murderous stares of everyone else.

"Bad news is that we just run out of tin and the neighboring village ran out of copper." That caused a lot of wailing and worried muttering. "But the good news is we finally found a way to end winter!"

"Yay!" cheered the crowd as they made applause.

Then someone thought differently. "How?"

"I have a vision!" declared the village shaman. "The gods have told me how to end winter."

"Remember the last time you had a vision of how to end winter?" pointed out the village leather worker. "We had to burn Mitch."

 _Flashback..._

"If this is about me giving all that crappy coal I collected from that cave, I apologize!" screamed Mitch as he was carried up the ladder and into the wicker man prepared by the village. "Hey guys, why are you doing this!?"

"The gods have spoken to me and they said that you, Mitch, must be given as a burnt offering to end the winter," spoke the shaman. "We must obey them and trust their council."

"If the gods told you to jump off a cliff, would you do that?" retorted Mitch.

"Come one, Mitch," scolded his neighbor. "Be a man and take one for the team." His tone suggested that he didn't think it was wrong to burn another human being, especially since he wasn't the _one_ being crispy fried there.

"B-but th-this is insane!" he stuttered in fear as he was being shoved into the head.

"In this day and age, times like test our faith and resilience," intoned the shaman, "and we confer upon you a rare gift, these days - a martyr's death."

"Don't you see that killing me is not going to bring back your apples?" Mitch challenged. "Or me for that matter?"

Then a little girl approached and said calmly, "A cataclysmic event caused our current predicament. A celestial object collided with the moon, breaking it up and sending superheated objects crashing down the earth, some on land and some on the sea, and others hit volcanic areas. The resulting explosions bring up so much dust, hot gas, and flash-heated water vapor into the atmosphere that they block the sun, causing a radical cooling on the surface temperature and bringing about a global ice age."

Seeing a way out of his predicament, Mitch pointed desperately to her from the bars of the cage. "See! That's a smart girl. She's the future of our world. Together, we can look for a solution!"

"We have one," she said happily, "sacrifice you, Mitch."

He screeched," That's not the future I had in mind!"

"Worth a shot!" chimed the elder. He lit his torch and prepared to burn the foot.

"Please, we can talk about this," he said in one last bid of desperation. "Let's not be too hasty."

"Sorry, Mitch, it's for the best." And poof went the fire.

"Bollocks..." he said as it suddenly burst into flames.

Satisfied, he turned to the villagers. "So, do we have any hymns to accompany it?"

"Uh, some of us here want _Sumer Is Icumen In_ ," said Mitch's neighbor.

"But how about _Come on, baby, light my fire_?" asked another.

"Let's put it into a vote, then, shall we?" They all voted _Sumer Is Icumen In_ so...

"Summer is icumen in/ loudly sing cuckoo/Grows the seed and blows the mead/ and springs the wood anew/Sing, cuckoo!/ Ewe bleats harshly after lamb/ cows after calves make moo." Such was the festive tone of the villagers as they all watched Mitch burn.

"You psychos!" Mitch cried back over the flames. "This is a bad idea!"

 _Back to the present..._

"He was right, it didn't bring summer," concluded the villager who raised the topic. "Only White Walkers who saw the smoke." They remember the panic that concurred as the White Walkers arrived in their village. They all run for their lives as the Ice Men cometh, fearing that they'll turn into wights. In reality, the Others were just there to trade their goods, which consisted mainly of elegant ice sculptures and see if they have the time to hear about their lord and savior the Ice King from the Land of Oo.

"But this time," said the shaman. "The gods guarantee it'll work."

"Yeah, how so?"

The shaman smiled. "I was granted a vision by the gods in my sleep. They said to me to go to the caves farther out the village and found the stone that bears the ore to fight the Others. A great hero will wield the sword made from the rock to slay them."

"Yay!" they all cheered.

"So I brought the rock over here," chimed the shaman as he pulled the covers of a large stone of black and reddish color with a generally smooth texture.

All the villagers looked dubiously at it. "Are sure you're not smoking the reindeer moss again?"

"What makes you say that?" The shaman looked rather offended.

"Because that looks like a clump of frozen shit!" they angrily pointed out.

"It's a rock, trust me," the shaman retorted.

"I know you spent too much time smoking reindeer moss," said the tanner as he readied to kick. "It's probably steaming pile off- AAW!" His kick stubbed his big toe against the rock and he hopped in pain.

"See! I was right!" The shaman smiled triumphantly.

"Now that solves it," stated the elder, "but it still leaves us with the problem of who will make the sword out of this rock?"

"How about Azor Ahai?" asked the village weaver, who continues to weave baskets despite the fact that no grass grows in winter. "He's the only blacksmith we have."

"Yeah, that's a good idea!" they all agreed.

"You mean me?" asked the nebbish blacksmith uneasily.

"Yes! You!"

"But I only make pots and pans," he protested. "What if I screw up?"

"You'll never screw up," intoned the shaman. "The gods said so."

So the villagers sang praised to an Azor Ahai looking like a deer caught in the headlights as they delighted upon the savior who will forge the ultimate weapon against the White Walkers.

"What should we name this rock?" asked the tanner.

"I know," cried the village elder, "let's name it 'iron.'" A very revolutionary name.

"Now I can dance around naked waving my dong!" cried the shaman in ecstasy.

That turned off everyone as they rushed out to avoid seeing his shriveled member.

* * *

Back at his snowy hut, Azor contemplates the challenge before him. He had to drag to the shitty-looking rock out of the cave for three hours. "Okay, Azor, you got this. All you have to do is to use all your knowledge in smithing and start making that sword," he said to himself. He started lighting his forge and picked up his anvil. "Here goes nothing."

- _Spongebob OST- Tomfoolery plays_ -

Azor Ahai had difficulty managing his craft as he processed the strange ore. He realized he needed lots of fuel to smelt, more than was needed for copper and tin. He almost burned his hut down, almost the entire village. He had to to search for frozen wood and dung all while avoiding the white walkers. Still, he managed to work the sword as he no longer have to worry about rock payments anymore as he was practically subsidized by the village. As day fifteen approached, he was haggard as fuck.

"Can't this damned harden any better?" he asked tiredly. A knock on the door came. "Who is it~?"

"It's me, Nissa," said a female voice. "Are you okay in there?"

"Just a second." Azor arranged his work place and his appearance hastily before opening the door. He was face-to-face with Nissa N. Nissa, the village sweatheart.

"Hello, Nissa, or was it Nissa-"

She chuckled. "That's cute. My dad told me to get this live chicken to you since you look awfully hungry."

Azor looked at the fear-stricken chicken, then accepted it. "Thanks, Nissa."

"No, thank you for doing your part in our time of need," she replied. "It's so selfless of you."

"Yeah, I know." He begged to differ since if he failed, it's a short trip to the chopping block.

"By the way, I kinda like you..." She halted her self and cleared her throat. "I gotta go now. Bye," she added shyly.

"Bye." As soon as she departed, he got back to working the sword, his conversation with her filling him with hope.

Spongebob narrator voice: One month later...

"Yes!" he cheered. "I got it!" After working virtually nonstop day and night for a whole month, he finally gotten the damned bastard to straighten out. Now all he needed to do was to dip it in water and everything's right as snow. This he did and

PFFFFFTT!

All the water in his tub turned to steam and the sword was black as a burned stick. He touched it and it turned to powder. He screamed to the top of his lungs as all his effort was literally turned to dust.

"Why can't I make a good sword?" he cried to the heavens.

Then a voice inside his head told him, "How about you stab a lion in the heart?"

"Who said that?" He was hearing voices in his head due to his lack of sleep for over a week.

"My name is Bran, uh, Bob the Builder and you can fix it," it answered. Then it was gone. Realizing it could be the gods, he took the advise to heart (pun intended) and went back to work.

One month and a little over a half later...

He held out a smoking blade with pride. "Okay. I got it. Now I just need a lion." After hammering just as he hammered himself about Nissa Nissa during his break time, he marveled at his smoking piece of metal. Then he saw a figure arrived out of his window.

- _The Lion Sleeps Tonight plays_ -

He saw a lion with dark red hair. He called out to it, "Hey, Mister Lion. What brings you here?"

The lion approached him and spoke in James Earl Jones's voice, "I would like to seek some shelter for tonight."

Azor blinked his eyes twice to see if he was not dreaming. The lion... talked.

"Oh yes, very well, Mr. Lion," Azor said graciously and let him in.

The lion accepted the invitation. "Great news, Azor Ahai, my name is Mufasa and the gods sent me to- AAAARRRGHH!" He got stabbed in the heart, his chest and back sizzling. "You... dumb fuck..." he croaked and dropped.

- _TLST stops_ -

He fell dead."Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" he said giddily as he pulled out the sword. And results were... the same as before. The damned thing crumbled!

"Come on! Really?"

Three months, a week, and three days later...

- _Hot Chocolate- You Sexy Thing plays_ -

Azor had worked hard to create the ultimate White Walker weapon. He tried and tried to to process that damned ore to make a proper sword but everything so far ended in failure. Only his marriage to his new wife Nissa made things bearable. Just as he hammered his latest-soon-to-be failure, his wife called.

"Honey, aren't you gonna sleep, dear?" she asked, worried that her husband was turning obsessed with building that sword. It doesn't that he was being pressured into finishing it.

"I'll be right to you, my princess," he replied.

"But if you're late, you won't get the 'special treatment' I offer you," she teased.

The thought of having lots of sex with Nissa was always a turn so he stopped working.

"How about flashing me those jugs?" he asked seductively.

"I thought you'd never asked." She flashed him her holstered melons.

Azor Ahai's mini-sword did a salute at the sight of such womanly peaks and was about to put away his blade when he tripped on a rock. The white-hot blade flew off his hand and stabbed her.

- _Hot Chocolate- You Sexy Thing stops_ -

 _PSSSSHT!_

- _Bon Jovi - Give Love a Bad Name plays_ -

"AAARGH!" she screamed in pain.

"Honey! NO!" he wailed in despair.

"You jackass... I wanted your penis, not this...," she croaked before dropping to the floor. All the neighbors rushed to his hut to check up on the commotion.

"What just happened?" said an old lady.

"Are they getting it on?" asked a horny old man.

"Let's take a look," suggested the tanner. They all barged into the hut and saw Azor crying on the floor with his wife lying in her back with the smoking blade sticking out of her chest.

- _Bon Jovi - Give Love a Bad Name stops_ -

"My gods!" cried a woman.

"What did you do!?" asked another man and everyone started ganging up on Azor, thinking he murdered his wife.

"Please, I can explain," he pleaded.

"Yeah! Tell it to the judge when we get there," retorted the tanner.

"Stop!" cried the little girl who thought the cure to global cooling was burning Mitch the coal digger down. "We need to hear what he has to say."

"Yeah, Azor, why'd you stab your wife?" said the tanner, who had courted Nissa for months and was jealous of the blacksmith's luck.

"Well... Let's say it's a game that gotten out of hand," he replied sheepishly.

"Yeah, we can see that," scolded the old woman.

"What's the game?" asked the village retard, born of an unfortunate encounter of a pig farmer with a bearded lady, who masturbates all day.

"Uh... it's... burny-burny, cut-cut." He hoped his dumb answer would satisfy them.

"So she lost?" the retard again asked.

- _Benny Hill theme plays_ -

Having killed the village sweetheart whom they betrothed to him as his privilege for making the sword to end all winter, the angry villagers shouted, "Let's get him!" And they rushed in, which was about as slow as everyone pushing through a single doorway.

Azor hurriedly looked for a way out but realized he's trapped. He barred all his windows and the only way out is through his chimney, which meant he had to get through fire, which was about as quick and easy as sawing your arm off with a plastic butter knife. Then the villagers managed to break through the chokepoint that was the doorway and had him surrounded. They all chased him all-around cartoony style such as going under the table, crawling through his slag heap, the hay loft, and through the cupboard but it ended when Azor tried to fend them off with the only thing he could get his hands on - the blade in Nissa's chest.

Grabbing it, he waved it all around. "Get back! Get back! I have a sword and I'm not afraid to use it!" As if on point, he managed a lucky swing on a neighbor, one of the pranksters who tormented Azor as it gave him a misplaced circumcision.

"AAAAHHH!" screamed the guy as he dropped to his knees covering his bloody crotch, the rest of his appendage dropped down on the floor. But our desperate blacksmith kept swinging the sword to keep them away.

The swish and swing of the sword really got the message through and something else. They noticed it didn't crumble like the last ones he made and and it had excellent cutting efficiency as demonstrated on the victim's lost balls. Azor kept swinging until he knocked his head on a wooden beam.

- _Benny Hill theme ends_ -

He woke up and found himself in a nice warm bed. "Where am I..." he asked groggily. "Am I in heaven..."

"No you're not," said the village shaman, sitting beside him. "You're still in your hut."

"What happened to me?" he asked, still not believing having his head still attached to his neck, in due part to accidentally killing Nissa.

"You made the sword!" he shouted in joy. "The sword that can truly threaten the White Walkers."

"And how did I do that?" he questioned skeptically.

"You plunge it into your wife's heart!" he answered. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"WHAT!?" He suddenly remembered that unfortunate incident where the sword flew like a butterfly and stung like a scorpion on his wife on his quest to have those luscious jugs.

"She was the final piece to the creation of the sword," the shaman added. "Her loving heart."

"No! No! That's not true!" he wailed in despair. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Nissa."

"It makes sense, that pile of ore can't make a good sword unless it was plunge into something with extra purity. That talking lion's didn't fit the bill. Nissa Nissa does and that's because she was virgin, you never had time to get it on with her."

Azor was tearing up. "My Nissa... I'm such an asshole."

"But you're a brilliant asshole, the right one," assured the shaman. "The one chosen by the gods for this very moment."

"But was I supposed to kill her?"

At that moment, the shaman said nothing. He needed something to break the awkward silence. He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I suppose it's more like you found by accident." That made Azor Ahai cry some more.

"Cheer up, at least you got the guy who bullied you."

* * *

A/N: To be continued... The sacrifice of Mitch was inspired by _The Wicker Man_ (the original 1973 film, not the crap-tastic remake), _Ice Age: The Meltdown_ , and Y _ear One_. _Laird_ is the Scottish word for _lord_.


End file.
